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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 




"What is the Summer made of?" — Page 19. 



MEMORIES OF HOME 



poems ano pictures of Xife ano IRature 



BY 




MRS. MARY D> BRINE 



AUTHOR OF "MOTHER'S SONGS," " GRANDMA'S ATTIC TREASURES," " PAPA'S LITTLE DAUGHTERS, 
" FOUR LITTLE FRIENDS," " HITHER AND THITHER," ETC. 



ALLAN BARRAUD, 

W. H. J. BOOT, 

E. F. BREWTNALL, R.W.S., 

FRANK DADD, R.I., 

M. ELLEN EDWARDS, 

W. BISCOMBE GARDNER, 



ILLUSTRATIONS BY 

H. GIACOMELLI, 
MARY L. GOW, R.I., 
W. HATHERELL, 
ALICE HAVERS, 
DAVIDSON KNOWLES, 
E. BLAIR LEIGHTON, 



J. NASH, 
W. H. OVEREND, 
H. M. PAGET, 
WILLIAM SMALL, 
G. L. SEYMOUR, 
A. STOCKS, R.I. 







wash i 



MA 



NEW YORK 

CASSELL PUBLISHING COMPANY 

104 & 106 FOURTH AVENUE 






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CorYRiGHT, 1S90, 
By 0. M. Dunham. 




^J 11 Rights Reserved. 




s5*3 



Aftef^ the Shower. 



'Wf TENDER sky — half tears, half smiles ; a sobbing breeze ; green meadows where 
^|3L A thousand diamonds glittering lie ; and in the soft, sweet summer air 
The fragrance of reviving flowers, which lift their drooping heads again, 
And the sweet scent of woodland ferns — after the welcome summer rain. 
From every bush, and shrub, and tree, the quivering raindrops hang and fall ; 
And twittering birds their wet wings shake, and plume themselves afresh, and call 
Each other from the woodland groves ; while the glad earth grows bright again, 
And sunshine floods the landscape o'er — after the welcome summer rain. 
With sense of life renewed and fresh, the world seems fairer in our eyes, 
And Nature, jubilant and new, smiles 'neath the light of joyous skies. 
Back to the fields the farmer goes, and toil suspended, once again 
Goes on, with vigor twice renewed — after the welcome summer rain. 




Qatherinq Flower? ijm JVIay 



[ELCOME, welcome, beautiful May': 
Welcome thou, and thy garlands gay ! 
The earth is glad with thy sunny smile, 

And sweet with the breath of new-mown hay. 
Lavish of all thy glory, thou : 

See ! thou hast flung thy treasures down 
Till the earth is gay in her new-found wealth, 

And jubilant in her floral crown. 

Fairer thou art, oh, beautiful May ! 
Than even thy sister, whose reign is o'er, 
The blue-eyed April, who wept and smiled, 
And softened the earth so cold before. 



She sang of thee, and our hearts were glad 

With thoughts of the joys sweet May would 
bring ; 

We longed for thee and thy merry hours, 

Oh, thou most beautiful month of spring ! 

There are sounds of pleasure o'er all the earth ; 

There are sweet birds singing in bush and tree ; 
There are laughing voices, and songs of mirth, 

And joyous faces to welcome thee. 
There are busy fingers in every field 

Plucking thy treasures rich and rare ; 
Oh, May ! so lovingly bountiful, 

Welcomes must greet thee everywhere. 





10 




What ha£ Become of the Beautiful Day? 



JzfHAT has become of the beautiful day? 

Where have its bright hours gone ? 

It seems but a, moment since, rosy and gay, 

The glad summer morning was born. 
And now the soft shadows of evening are here ; 
The day slips away, and the night cometh near. 

How have the glad moments gone, do we ask ? 

What has become of our day ? 
Ask the warm sunshine, whose golden rays fell 

And stole the bright hours away. 
Ask the soft clouds that far up in the sky 
Helped the dear hours so lazily by. 



Go ask the birds in the stately old elms, 

Who sang away the sweet hours. 
Look for the bees, and perchance they will tell 

Who idled the day 'mongst the flowers. 
And what say the leaves of the grand forest trees, 
Which have whispered and frolicked all day with the 
breeze 

Oh ! who can tell how the bright day has gone ? 

'Midst sunshine, and shadow, and play, 
'Midst humming of bees, and the singing of birds, 

Hath vanished the beautiful day. 
But the peace and the joy which it gave to my heart 
Thro' clouds and thro' sunshine shall never depart. 



14 



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:."■ ;-,■- 



The Evenijmq F(est. 

/\H ! welcome hour when, labor o'er, 

The laborer seeks his home once more ; 
The twilight hour, so doubly blest, 
Which brings to man and beast the rest 
So truly earned throughout the day, 
Now passing with its toils away. 

The laborer's wife, with face made sweet 
By loving watch, his fond eyes meet 
Beside the cottage, door ; the while 
He smiles response, to baby's smile ; 
And, ere he seeks his own repose, 
With Dobbin to the manger goes. 

And echoes of the vesper bell 
On the sweet breezes rise and swell, 
And seem to speak of love and peace, 
Bidding the long day's turmoil cease. 
And presently the twilight dies 
Beneath the quiet starlight skies. 




W 





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But brown-eyed Nora — ah I 
my heart 
Ran mad with joy when 
she came near. 



Of this and that ere long we 

talked, 

Till Nora, in a sober fit, 

On " Reaping that which we 

have sown," 

Began to moralize a bit 



16 







i^nfti fS^ ^iw 




The merry birds on twig and branch 
Trill out the news with fluttering wings, 
While Robin seeks the early fruit, 
Impatient watching the green shoot, 
And the glad tidings gaily sings. 

The brook, grown weary of restraint, 
Has burst its weakened bonds at last, 
And rushing down the mountain-side, 
Lends its fresh influence far and wide, 
And Winter's icy reign is past ! 



IS 




19 



Old Kinq Winter'^ Sonq. 



§ 



II, I am the friend of the girls and boys ! 
v I am the friend they love 
When there's plenty of frost on the earth below, 

And plenty of sunshine above ! 
To me they look for the frozen pond, 

All ready for skate and slide ; 
To me they turn with their painted sleds 

For a coasting hill so wide. 




There is snow for the sleigh-rides far and near, 

When the bells are ringing a chime 
Of the merriest music in all the world, 

As a tribute to winter time. 
If I kiss the cheeks of the lasses, so 

That they tingle awhile, what then ? 
I must have my share of the fun before 

The summer shall come again. 



I deck the trees with a fringe so bright 

That they glisten in sun or shade ; 
And I scatter my snowflakes in the air 

Till they fill each valley and glade. 
And climbing up to the mountain-top, 

Each shrub and tree I crown, 
And I spread the whitest of covers o'er 

The ground so barren and brown. 



I'm hoary-headed and old, I know, 

But the boys don't care for that ; 
They're glad to welcome the jolly old king 

Who wears the snow-brimmed hat. 
For I am the friend of the young and strong,. 

And a merry old soul am I, 
When there's plenty of frost on the ground below, 

And over it all blue sky. 




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Then I say, "Ah, Marguerite, 
All my heart lies at your feet ! 
Turn it to a garden fair, 
It shall blossom 'neath your care, 
Till it yield for you alone 
Wond'rous sweetness — all your own ! ' 



'■"V 



Blushes deepen in her cheek 

Ere the shy red lips can speak : 

" Ah, but what it weeds should grow 

'Mongst the flowers you bid me sow?' 

" Love must pluck them out," I cry, 

Growing bold with my reply. 






ilSM 



Out amongst her flowers sweet 
Lingered long my Marguerite, 
Sowing with her own glad smile 
" Hea?-tsease " in my heart the while ; 
Till the sweetest flowers had grown 
Blossoming for her alone. 



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U ^1 R E S T. 



*WLL winter long the snow has lain, 

Like the wings of a brooding dove, 
Over the spot where baby lies ; 
And they chide the tears in my longing eyes, 

And whisper, "She doubts God's love." 
Is it because I doubt ? Ah, no ! 

But only a mothers heart 
Can measure the depths of a mother's grief, 
Or welcome the tears that bring relief, 

Tho' they may not heal the smart. 




But, oh ! do you think my little child, 

As she entered the " golden gate," 
There knew her father who long ago 
Went away from his home below 

For us to watch and wait ? 
I placed a kiss on my baby's lips 

Before the angels came ; 
To send a message to him I tried, 
And she, our little one, smiled and died, 

Lisping her father's name. 




UK 



And I — I sit with my empty arms, 

And empty, desolate heart : 
I may have needed the chastening red, 
For life was too bright a thing ; but God 



Has taken the brightest part, 
And naught but shadow for me 
remains ; 
And yet — and yet, I know 
That botli my treasures, so far above, 
Will plead with Him, in His wondrous love,. 
To light my path below. 



27 



ft $UMMER ftFTEF\NOOJ^. 



DAISIED meadow lying fair under a summer sky ; 

Sweet ferns and grasses bowing low to the zephyrs hurrying by ; 
Over the woodland hangs the mist of the recent summer shower, 
And the bees and butterflies idly flit through every wayside flower. 




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!• Over the quiet fields I come, watching with dreamful eyes 
*Jj^ The clouds that fleecily, lightly sail over the tender skies, 
V Watching the swallows stretch their wings in the wonderful 
I space above, 

And my heart soars up with a thankful prayer for the Father's 
beautiful love. 



The robin sits on the maple bough, singing his mate a song, 

While little by little the day declines, and the shadows are growing long ; 

And down the lane the cattle stray, cropping the tender grass, 

While, swinging her sun-bonnet in her hand, follows the farmer's lass. 

I hear the ring of the scythe and hone in the fields not far away, 
And the merry hum of the mower's song, as he makes his fragrant hay. 
Oh, day so fair from the Maker's hand ! oh, skies so soft and blue ! 
Can thoughts be other than true and good when born from such as you ? 



28 




At the JSeapojm of Thanksgiving. 



^.H ! Charity, dear messenger, 

From heaven's courts descend, 
And to our earth-born hearts the gift 

Of thy swe:t influence lend. 
Touch and arouse the slumbering eyes 
Which do not wake to see 
How other eyes grow dim with tears, 
And hearts droop wearily. 



Remind us, whom a Father's grace 
Hath blessed with many a gift, 

That there are those whom we may help 
From sorrow's gloom to lift. 

Quicken our sympathy, our love ; 
Our mercies let us share ; 



3° 



Let the glad sunshine of our lives 
Spread o : er sad lives of care. 

Sweet Charity, we will not close 

Our ears to thy soft voice ; 
For every impulse born of thee 

Must make some heart rejoice. 
Then come, come quickly, Charity ! 

And all throughout our land 
On waiting hearts, or cold or warm 

Lay thine own blessed hand. 



And may the Lord, who ever heeds 

And marks the sparrow's fall, 
Help us to know, whate'er our deeds 

He sees and marks them all. 
By day and night, thro' storm and shine, 

Whate'er our lives may be, 
God grant these gifts of His delight — 

Faith, Hope, and Charity ! 




3 1 




The Old Foot- 
path. 

/\ H, dear old footpath ! day 
by day 

You lie 'neath skies or blue 

or grey ; 
Across the meadow 'neath 

the hill, 

Where shadows come and go 
at will. 

Safe home from distant lands 
once more, 

My busy memory travels o'er 

Long years of mingled joy and pain, 

And takes me back to youth again. 

Just there beneath yon linden tree 

My little sweetheart watched for me, 

To greet me with her tell-tale face, 

Where love had marked its own sweet trace. 

I wonder where that dainty maid 

Thro' all these years gone by has strayed ; 

Or did some new swain's eager feet 

A pathway make o'er grasses sweet, 

And bend the nodding daisies low, 
Whilst two walked slowly to and fro ? 
And, oh ! old path, none ever knew 
The lovers' secrets trusted you. 



Well, Time has many changes 
rung 

Since my young lips its praises 
sung ; 

But all unchanged, old friend, are you 

To whom my memory still is true. 

Your rugged breast is scarred each day 
By careless feet which o'er you stray, 
And many a hidden foot-print lies 
Unnoticed 'neath the changing skies, 
Feet that once trod you, now at last 
For ever rest — their journey past. 
And who may know, old path, if e'er 
My feet again shall tread you here ? 



ft Handful of Flowers. 



fUMMER is gone, and the autumn winds 

Are stripping the leaves frim the trembling 
trees ; 




The garden is lonely, its treasures are blown 
Far, far away on the chilling breeze ; 

The sk'es have lost their wonderful blue, 

And darken and change with the changing 
year ; 

And the dead leaves lie on the roadside brown, 
Since nature has grown so sad and drear. 

I walked alone o'er the garden path : 

My heart was troubled with gloom and 
doubt. 
" Alas ! " I thought, " for the many sweet things 
That have gone with the beautiful summer 
out!" 

Down the walk on her dancing feet 
My one best treasure came merrily. 

Her dear voice rang thro' the frosty air : 
"A handful of flowers! See, 
mother, see ! 

" They were all I could find 
that the cold had 
spared, 

But they waited to cheer 
us a little while ! 

And I guess, mamma, that 
the summer meant 

To say good-bye with 
just one last smile ! " 



I gathered my darling within my arms, 
The blue of summer was in her eyes, 

And the pure, sweet heart I knew was full 
Of the beautiful sunshine of summer skies. 



Oh ! hearts that weep, and are prone to yield 
To the touch of gloom in this world of ours, 

Go search yourselves, and you'll always find 

That there still remains a "handful of flowers." 



Ah ! autumn might come with frost and gloom, 
And shadows might come and go at will, 

Sut the Lord of heaven and earth was good 

To spare my heart's garden one flower still ! 

The joys He had taken would live again 

In His own fair garden of peace and rest ; 

And I said in my heart, " Come shadow or 
shine, 
The dear Lord doeth and knoweth best. 

*' Tho' over my life a cloud has passed, 

And the glory of summer I may not see, 

If I search my heart I am sure to find 
A 'handful of flowers' yet left for me. 



Pit. 



* And winter will pass in its own good time, 
And the verdure now dead will live again : 

And peace, and trust, and faith, and love 

Shall all be born from my present pain." 

So I lifted mine eyes from the leaf-strewn ground, 

And looked far off at the autumn sky, 
And I knew that the shadows 
that dimmed its blue 
Would vanish and fade in 
the " by-and-by." 





QuAptDjVlOTHER'jS ThOUQHT?. 



Throughout the aged heart still true and strong ? I For the mercies which have blessed her life s o long. 
" For like stitches on my needles," says this happy Grandma Gray, 
" So He multiplies my blessings and increases them each day. 

37 




And, ah ! how oft, as the days go by, 

She starts, as her listening ear 
Has almost caught on the sighing breeze 

Voices so soft and clear. 
" Tis the angels calling ! " she thinks. " Ah, me ! 

It is weary waiting here ! " 

The miller comes from his work at last, 

In the dusk of the autumn day, 
And he sits him down by his faithful wife, 

And strokes her locks so gray, 
And looks in her face with a loving smile 

That years steal not away. 



And back again as her dim eyes turn 
To the hill where the shadows fall, 

She thinks, ' ' My treasures are lying there 
But He hath not taken all, 

Since one beside me is waiting still 
Till the angel voices call." 

But the weeks are slow, and the aged two 

In the dusk of many a day 
Will watch the shadows that come and go 

O'er the meadows lonely and gray, 
Ere they, at the angels' call, may lie 

Where their treasures are laid away. 



39 






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41 




JC^RETTY Juliette, with the rose on her cheek, 

And a light in her happy dark eyes, 
Ccmes merrily home with her heart all aglow, 

And bright as her own native skies. 
The madre looks long at her child's little hands, 

So rosy from fingers to palm. 
"What hath reddened thy hands, mia figlia?" she asks, 

Her heart filled with sudden alarm. 

" Ah, madre m!a ! " comes the answer gay, 
" I plucked some red, red roses by the way." 

Pretty Juliette, with a song in her heart, 

Where happiness sweet overflows, 
Another time comes from her walk in the glen, 

And her lips are as red as a rose. 
" Oh, child ! " cries the mother, and looks in her face, 

" Say, why are thy young lips so red ? " 
Lo, blushes creep over the pretty soft cheek, 

And down droops the modest young head. 

' Ah, madre mia," comes the answer low, 

" It was the red, red berries stained them so." 



42 



Another time homeward comes pretty Juliette ; 

But her heart has forgotten its song, 
And her cheek and her lips are as" pale as the snow. 

And her feet on the way linger long. 
The mother looks close at the white, weary face. 

" Carissima figlia ! " she cries. 
"What hath chased from thy cheek the sweet blush of 
the rose ? 

What hath darkened the light in thine eyes ? 






"Ah, madre ! madre mia!" is the cry, 
"Hold me upon thine heait and let me die! 
For when my hands were red, his pressed them so ; 
It was his kiss which stained my lips ; his low, 
Persuasive voice filled all my heart with song, 
And made mine eyes to shine, and my step strong. 
But love is false ! ah, madre, love lies dead ! 
Can roses bloom when summer's sun hath fled?''' 
43 





FOUND, far out on the snow-mapped moor, 
The child that had gone astray ! 
Found, by a friend who was strong to save, 
And snatch from death away 
The little lost lamb of a mother's flock, 

So far from the sweet home (old, 
And safely borne to a mother's breast, 
For a mother's arms to hold. 

I take the stery to heart, dear Lord, 

)"or a wandering sheep am I ; 
Far, far astray from the one true fold, 

And out 'neath a wintry sky. 
There find me, oh, Thou mighty friend, 

And bear me in Thine arms 
To the haven of heaven, where never heart 

Can tremble with earth's alarms. 





GRANDPA AND Hip "DeA^. 



ipf AN any one say what fun there is 

In the thoughtless use of a gun, 
Which takes its aim at an innocent life. 

And, lo ! that life is done ? 
The merry, happy, warbling birds, 

Tho' roguish they may be, 
The song they sing is pleasanter far 

Than the bang of a gun — to me. 

"When I was a boy," said Grandpa Gray, 
" I thought, ' Now, like a man, 

I'll take my gun to the fields, and bag 
As many birds as I can.' 



" So off I went, and I banged away, 

With no thought of the pain I gave, 
Till I presently met. a sweet young miss 

Trying one bird to save. 
It had fallen near with a wounded wing, 

And the look in her face so sad 
Went straight to my heart, and I felt ashamed 

Of myself for a heartless lad. 



" Well, after that, I never could aim 
At an innocent bird again, 

But — I took to hunting after the deer 
And I did not hunt in vain ; 




The New J_,esson. 



CJO you're learning a lesson, maiden fair, 

Tho' a schoolgirl never more : 
Learning a lesson with all your heart 

That you never have learned before. 
The sunbeams herald the gladsome day, 
And over the world they dance and play, 
While you are conning with heart so gay 

Your sweet new "lesson" o'er. 

You are " somebody's queen ; fair, gracious, sweet ! " 

You know — for that letter at rest, 
Safe hidden from curious eyes, my dear, 

'Neath the folds on your gentle breast, 
Has over and over in every line 
Told you that story — oh ! maiden mine — 
And the reading has filled your eyes with the shine 

Of your own love half confessed. 

Many a lesson you've learned, dear child, 

In the schoolgirl days gone by ; 
And some were easy, and some were hard, 

Bringing a frown and sigh. 
But, oh, to be learning a lesson like this ! 
When studying it brings such a measure of bliss ! 
And the learning — is helped by a lover's kiss : 

It is pleasure that never can die. 

As the morning heralds the full, bright day, 

You stand with your hopes and fears 
On the very threshold of womanhood, 

Crowned with your nineteen years ; 
Which have gathered you laurels, one by one, 
Till the days of your childish plans are done, 
And the work of your womanhood scarce begun, 
Either for smiles or tears. 

So keep your secret, 'tis all your own, 

But the smile that dimples your cheek, 

And the happy light in your eyes, betray 
What your lips refuse to speak. 

And the sun shall gleam, and glimmer, and play 

Over the waters, and far away, 

And then — at the close of a happy day 
Some one his answer will seek. 




The Brook's I_,a;3t Soj^q. 



WHE brook goes gently murmuring 

On its accustomed way, 
Thro' meadow grasses singing, 

Thro' forests old and gray ; 
But its song seems strangely dreary 

On this October day. 



" Oh ! fragrant grasses bending 
To kiss me as I go, 

Well may my heart be dreary, 
Well may my song be low. 

And each succeeding ripple 
Be noiseless in its flow. 



52 




«' For day by day my pulses 

Must yet more slowly beat, 
Till comes a time— oh, daisies ! 

When never more shall meet 
Tour fragrant lips my waters 

In kisses soft and sweet. 

" Oh ! lovers who have lingered 

Full many a time with me 
To talk your foolish nonsense 

With lovers' harmony, 
But yet a little longer 

Your servant I can be ! 

*' For know you not, the hour 

Comes near when winter's king 

Shall freeze my lips in silence 
With icy covering ? 

And I shall die in sorrow, 

Crushed 'neath his cold, white wing." 

And slowly, yet more sternly, 

The brook goes on its way 
Thro' ferns and drooping 
grasses, 
And thro' the forests gray, 
And its song is yet more—-' 
feeble — 
More plaintive day by day. 







IIThe Three Kittiejb 



them 




€iNE was fair as fair could be, 
_r The others black — (she thought 
pretty) ; 
And I — of only one I dreamed, 

And she — she was — the other Kitty. 
She loved the others, I loved her, 

And full of mischief were the three ; 
But, ah ! at last kind fate contrived 
To give the winning card to me 



With blue eyes closed, and head thrown back,, 

Within the easy chair sat Kitty. 
Thought I, " If now a pair of gloves 
I may not win, 'twill be a pity." 
And as I softly reached her side, 

The red lips parted with a murmur. 
And, oh, what joy ! she breathed my name ! 
Within my heart hope grew still firmer. 



"Dost love me, Kitty?" whispered I ; 

And soft in sleep came back her answer 
I love thee not ! " I stood aghast, 

Till love urged, " Kiss her while you can, sir." 
But, ah ! the blue eyes swift unclosed, 

And glanced at me with mirth o'erflowing ; 
Thought I, " I'll let her think awhile 

That I've heard something worth the knowing." 



Then drawing near, I slily said, 

" Fair maid, your dreams have well betrayed yoa.' : 
"For shame ! " cried she, " to steal my thoughts, 

And get my slumbering tongue to aid you ! " 
All penitent, I humbly said, 

" But, ah ! the secret in my keeping 
Has made me sad." Then murmured she, 

"One never tells the truth while sleeping !" 



54 



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4fi 



^^^M^^ 



^ 



WAITI^q FOR "jVlOTHER." 



» HE old man sits in his easy chair 

Slumbering the moments away, 
Dreaming a dream that is all his own 
On this gladsome Christmas day. 
His children have gathered from far and near, 

His children's children beside, 
And merry voices are echoing through 
The " Homestead's" halls so wide. 

But far away in the years long flown, 

Grandfather lives again ; 
And his heart forgets that it ever knew 

A shadow of grief or pain. 
For he sees his wife as he saw her then, 

A matron, comely and fair, 
With her children gathered around his board, 

And never a vacant chair. 

Oh ! happy dream of the " Auld lang syne," 

Of the years long slipped away ; 
And the old man's lips have gathered a smile, 

And his heart grows young and gay. 
But a kiss falls gently upon his brow 

From his daughter's lips so true : 
" Dinner is ready, father, dear ; 

We are only waiting for you." 

The old man wakes at his daughter's call 

And looks at the table near : 
"There's one of us missing, my child," he says ; 

"Call mother— she is not here ! " 
There are tears in the eyes of the children then, 

As they gaze on the empty chair ; 
For many a lonely year has passed 

Since "Mother" sat with them there. 

But the old man pleads still wistfully, (> 

" We must wait for mother, you know ! 
So they let him rest in his old armchair 

Till at last the sun sinks low. 
Then, leaving a smile for his children here, 

He turns from the earth away, 
And has gone to " Mother " beyond the skies, 

With the close of the Christmas day. 





55 




JVIy Ship — my Captain. 



T SAID in the gladness of my heart — 

Only a little while ago — 
"A ship is hastening home from sea, 
And her bonny captain is thinking of me, 
And fast the good winds blow ! " 

So I watched the waves, and I watched the 
clouds, 

Wandering down by the shore each day, 
Till I longed for the sea-gulls' wings, that I 
Over the billows swift might fly 

To meet my love half-way. 



Last night they whispered the ship had come— 

My ship that was sailing over the sea ; 
And now in the morning's ruddy glow 
They show me a ship that is lying low ; 
But what is that to me? 

My ship was strong, and her crew were 
brave. 

Her captain — ah ! — was my captain too, 
And he promised to meet me safely here 
Some day when the sea and sky were clear, 

And when was his word untrue ? 



"But this? — why, this is a battered thing, 

And her crew, they tell me, are lost and dead ! 
My captain had always a kiss for me 
When he came before from over the sea ; 
But there, 'neath yonder shed, 

56 




Lies one with a face so white and still! 

And lips that never a word will speak ; 
And they say— alas ! but I know — I know 
My sailor would never lie silent so, 

With my tears upon his cheek. 



Oh ! let me think that my ship will come, 

So long I've waited, it must not be 
That this is the way— so fast— too fast— 
My ship, storm-driven, and wrecked at last, 
Came over the waves to me ! 





5§ 




59 




6o 




6i 



Come, little folks— the fields and lanes 

Are lonely now without you ! 
The birds are all in tune to sing 

Their sweetest songs about you. 
The old barn doors stand open wide, 

The brooks with fish are teeming ; 
And over hill, and dale, and lake, 

Dame Nature's smiles are beaming. 

Come, one and all, from far and near, 

And sound the summer's praises, 
Whilst racing through the clover fields, 

And nestling 'mid the daisies. 
Make wreaths of roses crimson-red, 

Your bright young heads adorning, 
For summer-time was made for you, 

And June is summer's morning ! 

"Vacation is the time for fun !" 

All girls and boys are saying, 
When school and books grow wearisome, 

And hearts are ripe for playing. 
So, little folks, come, one and all, 

And tumble out together 
Amid the sunbeams' golden li 

All in the sweet lune wea 




63 



JVIy Boyhood'? Home. 



BO near the scene of my boyhood's home ! 
Ah ! were I still but the merry boy 
Whose careless life on the dear old spot 
Was ever content and full of joy ! 



There I roamed at will o'er the meadows green, 
And stood at a tender mother's knee, 

And played with the brother whose fresh young heart 
Was big with the love it held for me. 




How oft I think of the dear old days 

When we came together, dear Will and I, 
To watch the shadows reflected here 

From the fleecy clouds of a summer sky ! 
How well he loved the fisherman's life 

That lay before us — the fisherman's boys ! 
And how he grieved when I left our home 

To taste of other and distant joys ! 

Ah ! years have fled since that happy time, 

And I am a man now, old and grey ; 
And mother, and father, and many friends 

Have long since passed from the earth away. 
My face is scarred with the toils of life, 

I've known temptations, and fought them 
through ; 
And who shall say that the victories gained 

Have not to the dear old home been due? 

There's never a life but soon or late 
^ The tempter's power must feel and know, 

And happy that heart which takes its strength 
From the truths it learned in the "long 
ago." 
Oh, dear-loved scene of my boyhood's home ! 

I bare my head in honour of thee ; 
And I know that, wanderer tho' I am, 

My brother a welcome will have for me ! 




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The Sonq of the {Sportsman. 



V ET who will sing of summer with its skies so soft and blue, 

To the merry, brown old autumn the sportsman"s heart is true ; 

Then we listen to the crack of our rifles sharp and clear, 

And we bag our game all quickly with a ringing shout and cheer. 

Oh ! the hill-side, it is golden ; and like the sunlit seas 
Are the fields of yellow corn as they rustle in the breeze ; 
And the river gleams like silver beneath the autumn sky, 
And o'er its rippling bosom, see ! the wild ducks flap and fly. 

From the gorgeous-hued old forest comes the pipe of many a bird, 
And the marshes with the rustle of the shy reed-birds are stirred. 
And heavily come homeward the laden harvest wains, 
And the farmer's heart is merry as he views his harvest gains. 



68 




Oh ! there's much to say good-bye to when summer goes away— 
The sweet, soft time of summer, that cannot always stay ; 
But there's much, so much to welcome with the ripe September days, 
And the earth grows fuller— richer in October's golden haze. 



Then, ho ! brothers, let us sing of the days to us so dear ; 

Let us say good-bye to summer, let us welcome autumn here. 

Bring your rifles and your pouches, and to the lake-side hie, 

For "there's game upon the wing, my lads, and sunshine in the sky ! 

69 




The Noon I^ecejsp. 



iCk H ! how the merry laugh and shout 

Of happy little folks ring out 
Upon the soft and balmy air, 
Sending sweet echoes everywhere ! 
Who but the children can express 
Half the delights of " Noon Recess '• ? 
When from the books and study free, 
Their little hearts o"erfull of glee, 
No rule may meddle with the fun, 
That's all their own — from twelve to one ! 



Alas ! for little lad or lass 

To whom it may have come to pass 

That naughtiness has brought about 

No right to join in " laugh and shout ; * 

Who all this recess hour must spend 

On study bench without a friend, 

While on the angry little face 

The scowls and tears leave many a trace : 

Poor little captive ! noon recess 

Has lost all charms — vou will confess. 



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Ah ! well, this life is but a school, 
Where we must yield to rod and rule. 
By some mysterious, stronger power 
We sometimes lose our recess hour. 
But even so, if loss of " fun " 



Should mark some needed victory won, 
The discipline must in the end 
Prove to have been our wisest friend : 
And when our recess hour we earn, 
With added zeal to it we turn. 




71 












At the Twijliqht Hour. 



SOFT, sweet fragrance in the air 
Of dew-wet flowers. Everywhere 
A tender, restful silence lies, 
Born of the misty, distant skies ; 
Whence twilight shadows slowly fall, 
Like gauzy curtains, over all. 
The meadows stretch so mistily, 



Far as my longing eyes can see ; 
And yonder, forest hides away 
In its own darkness from the day; 
And tinkling cow-bells ring in time 
To yonder streamlet's slumbrous chime; 
And o'er sweet Nature's paling face 
Night letteth down her veil apace. 



72 




In the Paf^k. 



THING of beauty is a joy for ever I" so they say; 
And what more lovely than a park upon a summer's day, 
With green above, and green below, and sunshine over all, 
And merry birds that chirp, and sing, and to each other call ? 
But better far the deep, wide woods, where man has laid no hand, 
And where the grandeur so sublime by God's own skill was planned, 



Why the Daisies />re White. 



/f\NCE on a time a quarrel rose, 

^ 'Tis said, between impatient Spring 

And that old Greybeard Winter, who 

Yet longer to his throne would cling. 
" My turn it is," quoth Mistress Spring, 

"To reign, and clothe the earth anew. 
How long must all my beauties lie 

Concealed, for fear of such as you?" 

Then to the sunbeams, coaxingly, 

She turned and said, "To you alone 
I look for help earth's chains to loose, 

And drive this loiterer from the throne." 
So, tempted by her smiling face, 

.The sunbeams answered to her call, 
And tho' old Winter battled well, 

His kingdom soon began to fall. 

" But if you think," he coldly said, 

" All trace of me to wipe away, 
My memory still shall haunt and lie. 

Upon your meadows day by day." 
And on that night a messenger 

By Winter sent to Daisyland — 
Upon each daisy blossom laid 

A sheet of snow with lavish hand. 

And Mistress Spring, when she beheld 

The souvenir of Winter's reign, 
Smiled, as she softly kissed her pets, 

And foiled his purpose once again. 
For in the heart of each white flower 

She laid a bit of golden sun ; 
And bade it nestle closely there 

Until sweet daisy-life were done. 

And thus the fair field flower grew : 

Spring's golden sunshine, warm and bright, 

At rest for ever in its heart, 

The while its leaves, like snow, are white. 




75 




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JVIy Apf^il J_,ove. 

TjfT'N April maiden is my love, 



Sc full of moods is she, 
I hardly know, to tell the truth, 
Which mood most pleaseth me. 
Her smiles are as bewildering 
As April's sunniest day ; 
So tender, I am fain to wish 

They ne'er might pass away. 



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7 6 



But if my love doth charm me so 

When she with mirth o'erflows, 
How can I tell the wondrous spell 

Her sadness o'er me throus ? 
Like violets bathed in morning dew 

Her soft eyes seem to be ; 
And then I think she's dearer yet 

Than e'er before to me. 




All smiles and tears, my little love 

Is like an April day ; 
For sunshine giveth place to clouds— 

By sunshine chased away. 
Ah, me ! which mood doth please me best 

I fear will ne'er be known ; 
But what care I, since in them all 

Her heart is all my own ! 






L UT on the sands we walked — three friends — ■ 
To watch the sea-gulls dipping low, 
While gently murmuring at our feet 
The waters rippled to and fro ; 
And merrily and happily 

We watched the white waves come and go. 

But one of us was very fair ; 

Alas ! I knew it was not I. 
My heart sank low, but I was brave 

To watch his face when she was by, 
Where all too well, with tender spell, 

Love wrote its own tale silently. 

And so at last I left them there, 

And all unheeded came away, 
And from our gay companions hid 

The lesson I had learned that day. 
My dream was o'er, with Love no more 

I watched the rippling waters play. 




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